Got me at a weak moment. I just missed a Blue Line, and it’s getting dark and shivery out here. I look west down C. No sign of no Blue Line. I cross over Sixth, head up half a block.

Inside, you can see people taking coats off, relaxing, laffing. Looks really snug. A group of guys in white shirt tops settles into a booth. Gal at the bar is wrapping her hands around a huge cup brimming with cream. She holds it and smiles a Cheshire Cat smile.

Now I'm hoisting myself up on a bar stool near the banker-looking fellas.

“That hot drink,” I say to the bartender, Kimmy...

“What is it?”

“That’s a Café Napoleon,” she says. “It’s cappuccino with a 2-ounce shot of cognac, and cream and chocolate syrup on top. Six dollars.”

Ulp. But on the other hand, who can resist? I order one.

And oh man. Hot, heady, with that slightly winey overtaste, disgustingly delicious with the cream and chocolate on top, gut-heating, and just as important, hand-warming.

I have a difficult time trusting nachos over there (or here, for that matter), but you MUST report on the gumbo. I could go for some gumbo right about now, nothing warmer than that except for this tequila I'm sipping on.

I can see my duty is clear, RG. Stay tuned. And Ian, yes. Started with the coffee, worked backwards. But it was kinda cool. Guess I'm becoming a little Filipino. Mixing sweet and savory is the way to go, from what I've eaten in National City. Hope your withdrawals aren't too bad in the cheesesteak OD clinic. Seriously, that was heroic.